


The Love of Others

by countrytocountry



Category: When The Night Comes (Visual Novel)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Other, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25975702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countrytocountry/pseuds/countrytocountry
Summary: Gus is very much unused to leaning on others when they need, but when they suddenly fall ill, their friends (and a new potential more-than-friend) join forces to nurse them back to health.
Relationships: August Willenheim/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	1. Chapter 1

As I stand before the door to General Willenheim’s office, I take a moment to smooth my clothes and hair for what feels like the hundredth time since getting dressed this morning. I’m fifteen minutes early for our meeting, as I found out the hard way not long after coming to Lunaris that the General considers “on time” to be “late.” I hold my report on the previous night’s incident--triple- and quadruple-checked for accuracy and errors--gingerly by the edges, so as not to crease it.

To say I find the General intimidating would be an understatement. I remember when I first met them, how struck I was by their sharp gaze, their efficient gestures, the way they had an answer to every question. I was equally struck by the bluish circles under their eyes, and by the hollows of their cheeks. You don’t command this level of authority by being a slouch, I suppose, I remember thinking to myself.

And yet, despite their intimidating aura, General Willenheim had been exceedingly kind to me since my arrival. They had taken the time to show me around the town during the Lunar Festival, treated me to delicious mulled wine, and kept me company during the fireworks. If I felt pressure to live up to their standards, it was pressure I put on myself. I wanted to show them that I was worthy of their kindness, and more importantly, of their respect.

Taking a deep breath, I raise my fist and rap sharply at the door. “General? It’s Hunter Bichette with the report you asked for.”

“Come in,” they reply distractedly.

I open the door to see them nearly hidden behind teetering stacks of paperwork, their head bent over a document as they make brisk (and, judging from the quantity, brutal) edits with every scratch of their quill. As I stand before them, they finally look up at me--and I realize immediately that something is wrong. Their eyes are overbright, their usual clear violet now glassy. A flush dusts their nose and cheeks.

I frown in alarm. “General, are you feeling alright? You don’t look...well.”

Their eyebrows raise as they give an inelegant snort. “To be truthful, Hunter Bichette, I feel like hell today. Good to know that I look like hell too.”

I scramble to extricate my foot from my mouth. “Uh, ah, excuse me General, I meant only to say that--that is, um--”

“It’s quite alright,” they say, smiling not-unkindly at my obvious distress. “I took it to mean that you’re concerned about my wellbeing?”

I feel myself flushing. “Well...yes, of course I’m concerned.” I gesture at the mountains of bureaucratic detritus strewn across their desk. “I worry that you’re working yourself too hard and ignoring your health.”

Their flush turns an even deeper shade of pink. Are they...blushing? Because of something I said? I realize that this may be the first time I’ve seen them blush this way, and I find myself suddenly swallowing a giddy laugh and trying my best to hide a smile. They’re...so cute when they blush.

They clear their throat. “Well, ah, someone has to work around here. And that someone appears to be me, at the moment.” General Willenheim appears to be looking everywhere except at me. “Now! Your report?”

I straighten as I present the highlights of last night’s events. “At around 8pm last night, a farmer came to find me at the Wolf, saying she’d seen fairy lights over the pasture where she grazes her sheep. When she went to investigate, she found that three sheep were missing, and the rest had twigs and leaves knotted into their wool.”

The General holds up a hand, signaling for me to stop. “This wouldn’t have been Farmer Laren, would it?”

“Yes,” I say with some surprise. “How did you know?”

They sigh with irritation. “This has only happened about a half-dozen times over the past year since Laren took over the farm. She constantly forgets to leave milk out for the fae, and this is how they retaliate. She should know by now that all she has to do is make her offering, and her sheep will be returned to her. She’s lucky that her Neighbors appear to be a tolerant sort, otherwise they would’ve escalated their tricks a long time ago.” They push their chair back and stand. “Let’s go visit her, quickly, so that I can tell her to kindly try resolving this with the Folk instead of dragging us into it every time.”

However, after stepping out from behind their desk, General Willenheim suddenly stops.

“Oh,” they say in a small voice, swaying.

I have just enough time to run to their side as they collapse. I manage, barely, to catch them before they hit the ground. “General? General!” I call in alarm. I realize that I can feel their body heat radiating through the layers of their uniform, and I cautiously lay a hand on their forehead, gasping when I feel them burning with fever.

I also notice, as I hoist them into my arms, that they’re frighteningly light for a person of their height. When was the last time they ate? I wonder. Or slept, for that matter?

“General? Can you hear me?”

Their eyelids flutter, and they mutter, “For goodness’ sake, call me August. It’s the least you can do if you’re going to hold me like a blushing bride.”

I almost drop them then and there. It takes a mighty effort to keep from swearing.

“Well, August, you have a fever. I’m taking you to Ezra.”

They wave dismissively. “Nonsense, I’m fine. Now put me down.”

I do as they ask, but as soon as I stop holding them up, they wobble and I catch them again. I hear them utter a low, impassioned, and very un-General-like “fuck” as I hold them once more. I hide my smile.

“I’m afraid I have to put my foot down, Gen--I mean, August,” I say as I move toward the door. “You’re ill. You need medicine and rest. We’re going to see Ezra.”

August sighs, scowling. “Fine. But let me at least take a few things to work on at home--”

I cut them off. “Absolutely not.”

Their scowl grows deeper. “A compromise, then: instead of going to Ezra’s house, take me home and send a junior to fetch Ezra. My house is closer and easier to reach via backstreets.” They look down, clearly embarrassed. “At least spare me the indignity of being seen carried like a babe in the arms of one of my Hunters.”

I soften at their words. I can’t imagine that this is easy for them, being so physically weakened that they’re obliged to rely on someone to carry them home.

“Fine,” I say. “But only if you let me stay with you until Ezra arrives. I want to make sure that you won’t find some work to do as soon as you’re left to your own devices.”

To my surprise, August laughs. “Alright. You’re a stubborn one, did you know that, Hunter Bichette?”

I smile. “Call me Clara.”


	2. Chapter 2

I manage to get August home through a winding series of alleys as they give me directions. In retrospect, I am glad that August convinced me to bring them home via a more discreet route. I’m certain we must have made quite a sight, since August is easily a head or more taller than me, with legs and arms that seem to somehow stretch in all directions at once. Luckily, my Hunter training made carrying them relatively easy, give or take an elbow or knee dinged against the wall of a particularly narrow alleyway.

Throughout our short journey, I felt hyper-conscious of August’s closeness, their arm slung around my neck, their cheek so near my own. Every now and then, if I turned my head too quickly, I caught a whiff of lavender, which sent my thoughts skittering in all directions. They smelled heavenly. Of course August Willenheim would smell like fucking lavender. Are they even human?

My thoughts are broken off abruptly when Ezra bursts through the front door. His hair and eyes are wild, and he’s carrying a huge bag laden with what I can only assume are medicinal herbs and healing paraphernalia. His eyes fix on me, and he asks, “Where’s Gus? Are they okay?”

“They’re upstairs changing. They said they’d call down when they’re dressed.”

Ezra sighs with relief. “Good, whatever they have must not be that serious. Your junior that you sent to my shop didn’t provide many details, so I grabbed whatever was handy and came as quickly as I could. Could you tell me what happened?”

I relay to Ezra that August had a fever, and had been so unsteady that I’d had to carry them home. Ezra chuckles when I describe our passage through the back alleys of Lunaris. “I’m sure they hated being carried.”

I answer with a chuckle of my own. “You have no idea. They were as sullen as a cat that’s been drenched with water.”

Ezra’s eyes sparkle with mirth. “I can only imagine.” He stops, looking down briefly at his hands, before looking back up at me. “I’m glad that you were there to help them, Clara. They never would’ve asked for it on their own.”

I flush, embarrassed. “Well...I’m sure I only did what anyone else would have.”

Ezra laughs, loud and long. “I don’t think anyone else would’ve dared to stand up to _the_ General Willenheim the way you did. Gus scares the life out of most of their colleagues.”

I choose my words carefully. “They...certainly have an effect on people. And on me.”

I catch Ezra looking at me searchingly for a brief moment, but before I have a chance to process, I hear August calling from upstairs: “Clara? You can come up, I’m decent.”

I look at Ezra, and he grabs his bag and follows me upstairs.

As I enter the room, I see that August is dressed (impeccably, of course) in a silky violet pajama set. Their eyes are still bright, their face still flushed, but they’re sitting up in their bed looking much perkier than they had only an hour before. However, their expression quickly turns sheepish as they catch sight of Ezra.

Ezra goes directly to August’s bedside, then folds his arms and frowns down at them. 

“Gus...you can’t keep working like this.”

This is the first time I’ve seen Ezra look anything even approaching angry, and I admit, even I feel slightly afraid of him at that moment. He’s so unassuming that it’s easy to forget that he’s an incredibly powerful Witch.

August looks right back at Ezra, and says, “This was a one-off incident. It’s never happened before, and it will never happen again.”

Ezra’s eyes blaze green. “Stop being so stubborn! If it does happen again, who’s to say you’ll be this lucky? It’ll be worse with each time you get sick!”

At this, August at least has the good sense to look chagrined. “People need me. I can’t just take a break when there’s work to do.”

Ezra sighs, and says, “There’s always work to do, Gus. But there are also plenty of people who would love to step in and help, if you’d let them. You don’t have to take the weight of the world onto your shoulders.”

There’s a long, tense silence, and I feel suddenly as if I’m intruding. I clear my throat. “August, would you mind if I used your kitchen to make some tea?”

Their gaze snaps to mine, as if they’d forgotten I was there. “Of course not, please help yourself.”

I quietly excuse myself and head downstairs. Before I can reach the kitchen, however, I hear a rough knocking at the door.

I open the door to a harried-looking Piper, out of breath and with a streak of what looks like soot on her cheek. She looks at me with surprise. “Clara? What are you doing here?”

I shake my head and say, “The General fell ill while I was reporting to them this morning. I brought them home and sent for Ezra to come and take a look at them.” I take in her disheveled appearance, and ask, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“There was a fire. At the Wolf.” 

My jaw falls open. “What? How? Is everyone alright?”

Piper nods. “Everyone’s fine. Luckily, it happened while the tavern was closed. The only one who was there at the time was Edna, and you know she’s indestructible.” She snorts. “There wasn’t a ton of damage, either, but…” Her voice trails off, and she grimaces. “The damage was to the roof above your room.”

I close my eyes and breathe deeply, then let out a very, very long groan. 

“Alright,” I say after groaning what I believe to be a sufficient amount. “Let’s see what there is to salvage.”


	3. Chapter 3

I stand surveying the dripping, ashy wreckage of my room above the Wolf. My hard-as-a-rock bed is now a sodden heap in the middle of the room. I look up and see that where there once was ceiling is now sky. My immediate thought is to check the trunk where I keep my weapons, and with relief, I see that they’re undamaged. Thank fuck I actually took the time to put them away correctly, I think, grateful to Past Clara for being tidy, for once. 

Piper stands in the doorway as I pinch the bridge of my nose, wondering where I’ll stay now that my lodgings are inhabitable. I’d already asked Edna if she had other rooms available, and she’d only responded with a grunt and a “no” without any further elaboration. 

“Say, Piper…” I begin slowly with a pleading look.

She cuts me off swiftly, saying, “I’m sorry about your room, Bichette, but I don’t do roommates. Plus I ain’t exactly got the space.” She thinks for a moment. “Why not ask Ezra? That Witch will take in anything what wanders into his shop. Including, but not limited to: vampires, demons, lycans…”

I snort. She has a point. “You’re right. I’ll ask him when we get back to August’s. I need to report this to them anyway.”

Piper smirks and says, “Ooohhhh, so they’re ‘August’ to you now, are they? What’s got you two so chummy all of a sudden?”

I feel my skin go up in flames. Damn her and her smug face. “W-well, they said I could call them ‘August’ instead of ‘General,’ since I was carrying them and all--”

She crows with laughter and slaps her knee. “Carrying them? Gods, what I wouldn’t give to see you carrying August across Lunaris like an angry cat!” She finally stops laughing and wipes the tears from her eyes. “They must like you if they let you carry them. I think they’d zap me if I ever tried.”

“It’s not like they had much of a choice,” I retort. “They couldn’t stand on their own.”

Piper fixes me with a look, suddenly serious. “I meant what I said, Clara. August isn’t one to ask for help, even when they’re practically at death’s door. They’ve overworked themselves for as long as I’ve known them.”

I shrug. “I think I understand, though.” 

“What d’you mean?” Piper asks distractedly as she pokes through some drippy wreckage.

I hum to myself as I choose my words. “I mean, there have been so many times when I’ve wondered what people see in me aside from how good I am at being a Hunter. If I were to stop all of a sudden, what would I have left to give? Who would need me?” I shrug again. “So I can’t say I blame August for wanting to make sure people need them.”

Piper is uncharacteristically quiet as she mulls over what I’ve said. Then, she shakes herself and says, “Well, it looks like there’s not much left to do here. Shall we go report?”

I sigh and give one last look at my ruined room. “Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

After Piper and I return to August’s, I’m happy to discover that they’re playing cards with Ezra instead of trying to sneakily work from their bed. Ezra must have threatened and cajoled them to take it easy. I have to admit to myself that I find the way Ezra handles August to be absolutely incredible, and vow mentally to discover his secret. 

Without taking their eyes from their game, August asks, “Where did you two get off to in such a hurry?”

I take a deep, bracing breath. “The Wolf caught fire. Actually, pretty much only my room caught fire.” 

August stops playing for a moment, their eyebrows shooting up as they fix me with an incredulous look. “The Wolf caught fire? Any injuries? Casualties?”

Piper steps in to give an informal report. “No, _General_ ,” she emphasizes, “no one was hurt.” She sees Ezra frowning in August’s direction, clearly dismayed that they’ve snapped so easily back into work mode. “But I was able to handle putting out the fire, and evacuating civilians. I’ll go back to help with cleanup later.”

“Which brings me to a favor I need to ask of Ezra,” I finish. I turn to him, suddenly embarrassed. “Can I...stay with you while the roof is repaired?”

A strange expression crosses Ezra’s face at my question. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looked almost...crafty. I quickly continue. “I don’t have many belongings, and I promise I’ll be out of your hair the moment the repairs are done.”

Ezra considers for a moment, then makes a face so remorseful that it seems almost forced. _What’s gotten into him?_ I wonder briefly. 

“Under normal circumstances, I’d say yes right away, but I’m afraid I have a guest at the moment…” He turns to look at August. When he opens his mouth to speak, I realize with dawning horror that he’s planning on asking them if I can stay here instead. My brain fills with white noise as I try to think of a way to gracefully cut in and stop the slow-moving carriage crash unfolding before me, but I can’t get the words out in time.

“Gus, you have a second bedroom, don’t you? Can’t Clara stay with you?” Ezra asks, the very picture of sweetness and innocence. 

Ezra’s cunning expression from earlier suddenly makes sense. You sneaky, match-making Witch. I look helplessly at Piper. She’s practically vibrating with the effort of holding in her own laughter. 

_Gods damn it. Traitors, the lot of you._

August, on the other hand, seems completely unruffled as they examine their hand of cards. “I don’t see why not.”

I feel physically taken aback by their nonchalant response. But when I look up from my twisting hands, I see that while August’s gaze is locked on their cards, a small flush has risen on their cheeks. _Are they blushing, or just feverish?_

However, I don’t have time to process before Ezra says, “Well! This works out just wonderfully. Clara, you can keep an eye on Gus and make sure they take time to recuperate. Gus, I hope you’ll be an accommodating host?” 

August flushes an impossible pink, but I quickly realize it’s out of rage rather than embarrassment. “First I’m meant to recuperate, now I’m meant to be an accommodating host. Which is it? If I’ve got the time to treat Clara to tea and biscuits, surely I’ve got time to catch up on work—”

Ezra interrupts and says cheerily, “Let’s go get your things, Clara.” He flashes a dimpled smile at August, then hooks his arm through mine, abandoning his cards. The last sight I see as he pulls me through the doorway is August pinching the bridge of their nose and muttering to themselves.


End file.
